


Love is for children.

by Katefkndoes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Apparently Steve doesn't mind, F/M, I Don't Even Know, Natasha has issues, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:54:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1420450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katefkndoes/pseuds/Katefkndoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha has issues.  Apparently Steve understands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is for children.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not completely happy with this fic. But I can't look at it any more. Initially, I planned on writing something more detailed involving Bucky but I just wouldn't put it into words. Thought I'd post it anyway though, so I didn't end up going crazy editing it over and over again.
> 
> All mistakes are my own, although I've tried to beta it.

“I just wasn’t, uh, expecting it,” Maria admits, flushing bright red.  Natasha is only half paying attention to her, but she nods along anyway.  She isn't one for idle girl talk, but she enjoys getting coffee as much as the next person and for the most part Hill keeps their talks strictly frivolous – they had once spent two hours discussing the finer points of unarmed combat.  “I mean, I've read the files, how could I not?  And there’s details about increased stamina, and strength… and we've both seen the before photos.  But then there are stories about how he’s all virginal but… wow.”  She finished with a sigh.  “I mean, it’s nothing serious, of course, but let’s just say that women owe Erskine a debt.” 

Natasha takes a drink of her soy latte, and absorbs that information.

“How good?”  She finds herself asking, leaning across the table, her interest inexplicably piqued.

“Like amazingly good.”  Maria confirms and takes a bite of a bear claw, licking the sugar off her lips.  “Toe curling-ly good.” She adds with a smile.  Natasha nods again, in understanding, pretending to savor her coffee.  And _Christ,_ that must mean he’s phenomenal in bed, because the last thing she ever thought she’d be discussing with Maria was her sex life.  

From that moment on it’s all she can think about.  The idea of Steve Rogers being anything other than a slightly awkward, anachronism was enough to make her see how very attractive he was.  That wasn't to say she was oblivious to his charms before, but she had always been attracted to the rough and ready look, and Steve was practically a boy scout.

The conversation with Hill even haunts her dreams, which is an _interesting_ development.  She wakes more than once in the night, hot and bothered and thinking about taking the super soldier for a test run herself.  So, naturally, she decides that she needs to collect more data to rid herself of her pesky illusions.  The only way to collect more data, she decides, is to throw more women into his path.

For the next two months, she spends a significant amount of her spare time finding potential dates for the Captain. She figures that the more people she can get to sleep with him, the more information she can collect.  And if she relays his abilities to a few of them, then that’s her business and shouldn't affect her sample.  It’s not like she doesn't understand that it’s pretty creepy, but she’s never claimed to be a paragon of virtue.

Then comes the Winter Soldier.

She’s used to working on her own, going in without back up and surviving based on her own wits and particular skill-set, but it’s actually somewhat nice to have a partner.  From a purely rational standpoint she knows that Steve is strong – she’s see him in the gym more times than she can count, - but she doesn't realize just how strong he is until the roof nearly collapses on them.  He could have left her, but he chooses to save her.

She looks at him with different eyes after that.  He’s smarter than people give him credit for, and he’s more willing to trust than anyone she’s ever met.  Which will save his life, or get him killed one day and she’s still not sure which.

The end comes quicker than she could have hoped.  They survive, but it’s a pretty close call there for a while.

Not that she ever really doubts they will be, but it’s a hollow victory.  Bucky is still out there and he doesn’t know who he is; no matter what Steve insists.  There more sadness in Steve’s eyes, and she knows he’s just a little more broken inside.  After that she keeps an eye on him, not that she feels that he will do anything stupid to himself, but she worries that he won’t be able to let the Soldier go.  She watches him because it’s logical to spot a comrade, and not at all because she _still_ can’t get the abstract images of him having sex out of her head.

Not that he’s been having a lot of sex these days.  None at all, Natasha knows this because; she might – sort of – be tailing Steve.  It’s not stalking.  She justifies it by telling herself that it’s a mission.  It’s not stalking if it’s a mission – it’s just too bad that it’s a self-imposed mission.

It’s been three weeks since the last time they heard anything about Bucky, and she has to admit that her excuses for ‘checking in’ on Steve each night are wearing thin.  She’s about ninety percent certain that he doesn’t realize that she’s following him – why would he?  She is the best; no one has to know her secret.

Unfortunately, she runs into Clint walking back from Steve’s house, and judging by the look on _his_ face, he definitely knows something is wrong.  It’s always been the same between them, he knows her better than she knows herself most of the time.

“You taken up stalking, Nat?”  He asks, jumping down from his perch on a nearby wall.  She doesn’t flinch.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she has to admit that is a pretty ridiculous line.  Not that anything about this whole thing – whatever it is - is anything other than ridiculous, but there you go.  He cocks his head in an incredulous manner and he doesn’t have to say what he’s thinking.  “It’s not like that – he saved my life, you know I owe him a debt.”  She explains, but she knows she’s making excuses.

“I don’t see you stalking me,” he says, a smirk on his face.  She doesn’t have an answer to that, not really.  She guesses at least part of it is that she can usually get an excellent read on people, but she can’t figure out Steve at all.  And the more she –ahem – stalks him, the more confused she becomes.

She’s there when the Soldier turns up at his door.  She’s almost glad because she feels that if something happens she can completely justify her study of him.  But the Soldier doesn’t attack; he just stands in the doorway.  She really wishes she could hear what he was saying, but she can barely see their faces.  After a few moments, Steve draws the soldier to him.  The brunet rests his head on Steve’s chest, his eyes cast downwards as the blond places an affectionate hand on his neck and places a soft kiss in his hair.

That’s the only time she ever feels like she’s _really_ intruding.

It’s almost another month before Steve comes to her.

Apparently, she’s not as stealthy as everyone seems to believe.  A lesser woman might’ve been startled at his looming presence stepping out from the shadows, but though she’s rather surprised, she’s been trained to hide her emotions and she doesn’t show it.  As it turns out, the rooftop opposite his apartment is a pretty shitty place to use to spy on him, because he’s not remotely surprised to see her.  He does, however, look a little guilty.

“You know, you don’t have to stay outside, I would have let you in.”  There’s more than one meaning to those words, but she can’t allow herself to look at that too closely **.** “You don’t even speak to me any more.”  He’s not wrong.  She closes her eyes briefly.  “Why?”  His hands are in his pockets, and there is a sad edge to his voice that she wasn’t prepared for.  It hurts more than his anger could.

“Because…” she sighs.  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he nods, pretends he understands when he doesn’t.  How can he?  She doesn’t even understand herself.

“I’ll deal with Bucky.”  He confirms, as though that’s the only reason she’s here.  They both know it isn’t.  “You could still speak to me… I thought… we were friends.”  This time there’s a hint of disappointment, and she can’t help but think that he looks so unlike Captain America in that moment – too big and too small all at the same time.  His hands shift awkwardly out of his pockets and fold across his expansive chest.  She’s never seen him look so ungainly – it sets her teeth on edge.

“It’s not you, it’s me.”  She says after a moment.  It’s true, but it has so many connotations that she doesn’t think he’s caught up to.  She’s embarrassingly wrong.

“So, now this is a bad break up?”  He looks confused, his eyebrows knitting together and his lips pursed. She shakes her head, he doesn’t understand at all.  She doesn’t work the same way he does, they’re different creatures and he just hasn’t figured that out yet.

“You won’t see me for a while.”  She says turning her back to him, and there’s a sense of finality to it that she wasn’t expecting.  She expects some argument, but all she gets is silence.

When she turns around he’s nowhere to be seen.  She closes her eyes, ignores the spike of unspoken rejection that pierces her chest.

Afterwards, she decides it will be cathartic to get out of the city for a while – to try and find a sense of self again.  Heaven knows she can’t keep following Steve around.  She visits Bruce in India, spends time building schools and doing good, still trying to wipe out the red in her ledger.  She can blend in anywhere, but she feels out of place.  She’s only playing a role, and that can only help in the short term.

Eventually, she visits Tony and only thinks of killing him twice, which she considers progress on that front at least.  He offers her a job at Stark Industries – working for what he describes is the new SHIELD.  She mulls it over, but there is only ever going to be one answer.  Stark knows that when he asks her, in some way she does do.  She accepts.  Which, of course, means she runs into Steve.

“Natasha.” He says, like they don’t know each other at all.  It hurts more than she thought it would.

“Steve,” she nods, giving him nothing back.  But she can’t help but notice the way people defer to his judgment and the new confidence in his movements.  Something twists in her gut, because he doesn't much resemble a boy scout these days.

Someone must have said something, (she suspects Clint or Tony but she supposes it could even have been Bruce), because he comes to her after two weeks of awkward one word encounters.

“If you wanted to know anything about me, you could have asked, I would have told you.”  His tone is approaching miserable, and she wasn't expecting that.

“Where I come from, we didn’t just ask anything.”  She replies, and feels like she gives away more of herself with that comment than she intended to.  He looks at her for the longest moment, sadness in his eyes, and a comforting heat radiating off him.  She’s always loved that about him.  His body runs warm, and for someone who grew up cold its more than comforting.  Being near him reminds her she’s alive.

“For someone who wants me to find a place in the world, you don’t seem sure of your own.”  He says finally.  He casts an imposing shadow over her, and it’s not like she’s scared but she doesn’t feel like she can tell him a lie… and she’s not quite sure she can admit the truth.

“I’m trying,” she says, because it’s not a lie, but her voice sounds distant and thin in a way she hasn’t heard in years.  Not since before.  Before, SHIELD.  Before, the Red Room, when she was a different person.  It’s unsettling.

“I’m here when you want to talk to me,” he says.  Walking off, and taking his perpetual warmth with him.  She shivers reflexively, and it’s not because of the cold.

It takes her three days to pluck up the courage to speak to him after that.  She spends the first night walking around the reflective pool.  The second day she spends training.  She watches him the third day, follows him as he visits Peggy and watches as he eats dinner with Sam.  She’s waiting for the perfect moment, but it doesn’t see forthcoming.  In the end, she decides that she’s over-thinking it and goes to his house.  She stands in front of his door for ten minutes before she can bring herself to knock.

“I wondered if you were going to stand out there all night,” he says as he opens the door.  He’s wearing a blue t-shirt that brings out his eyes, and a pair of loose fitting track pants.  Even dressed down he looks amazing, and she wonders whether he realizes the effect he has on people.

She looks up at him through her eyelashes for a long moment, contemplating the right words.  When they don’t come, she leans up and kisses him.  His lips are soft, and taste vaguely of Dr Pepper.  She closes her eyes and tries to memorize their feel.  She always thought love was for children, but she never had a childhood.

“Just once… for me.”  She says, and leans back on her heels.  His eyebrows knit together and she instantly regrets her actions.  “I’m not sorry.”  She says, because she’s stubborn to the end.  The best form of defense is a good offense, and she knows how to portray indifference.

He looks at her for a long moment, his eyes searching her face and making her heart quicken.  There’s something disquieting about being the focus of his gaze.  Part of her wants to run, to leave him, because she feels naked before him, like he can see all of her.  She’s not acquainted with feeling so exposed.  It’s not entirely unpleasant.

The seconds stretch on for what feel like an eternity, before he shoots her a half-smile of bemusement, and steps back to let her in.  She hesitates for a moment, once she walks in things will change.  She will change.  He looks at her, the muscles twitching in his jaw the only indication that he’s as invested in this as she is. Part of it is because, maybe, just maybe, in some ways he’s almost as broken as her.  But maybe that’s the point.

It’s a moment of elation, and it’s a crushing weight of accountability.

She shuts the door behind her.  And gives herself to him in every way she once feared.  That dread feels more misplaced with every touch of his hand, every kiss of his lips and every soothing word he says.  His warmth spreads into the coldest parts of her, in ways that she can’t begin to explain.

Natasha supposes she has been with a lot of men, and has never once felt as whole as she does with Steve.  It’s not because he has virtually not refractory period, and it’s not because he can hold her up like she weighs nothing when they make love in the shower.  It’s because when he looks at her he doesn’t see the blunt instrument she knows she can be; he sees something delicate that requires nurturing.  And when he touches her, it’s with reverence and not expectation.

Steve Rogers might be good in bed, but that’s not what changes her life.  Before him she always believed that love was for children, she understood that love was a perfect lie perpetuated by Disney movies.  But being with him teaches her that love is about quiet understanding, and being there for someone else without questioning why.

In hindsight, she should have realized her interest in Steve probably wasn’t purely platonic long before she tried to set him up with everyone woman she knows.  And it would have been far easier to speak to him rather than follow him around.  Still, she thinks, curled up against his chest, his large hand stroking lazy circles on her back, it was better later than never.


End file.
